


Stuffing holes

by cruentum



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Grief/Mourning, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 22:48:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/931998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruentum/pseuds/cruentum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>summerpornathon 2013 entry. The thing is, people died and Merlin didn't, and had ever since Arthur and his family. It was only a matter of time until he figured out how to keep them around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stuffing holes

**Author's Note:**

> written for challenge 7 of the Merlin summerpornathon 2013: Magic.

That this became his go-to default for sex had been pretty much an accident. Merlin was fond of _things_ , one might call it sentimental, and the unfortunate side effect of not dying was that other people did. A lot. It had started with Arthur. His father before that, really, his mother, Freya (sort of), Will, ... other people. Not that many other people, maybe.

He was sitting over a tea, an iPad, and a fair bit of crap music, looking out over the sea and lost reminiscing about his life. Things were easier now than they had been when he'd stood by and just watched them die. They'd been easier ever since he'd wrapped his mind around the spells and drawn matter tight, only to set it in stone.

He owned the estate now, independently wealthy and always supporting just the wrong party. No one quite knew what he was doing here, he was a private person after all. And, granted, the walls were high enough.

Merlin had been down in the morning, but when he slid his hands into his briefs, his cock was filling again, already. He left the iPad and the news that changed every other decade and made his way into the basement. The air crackled with energy, magic sizzling across his skin as he walked deeper and deeper.

The lights turned on as he stepped in, illuminating the rows of beds along the walls. This was, crudely put, the copulation section. Others were in rooms further along but he was here most of the time. Heart monitors bleeped low, sinus curves, drips.

They all had their eyes open. Some of them had been here a few hundred years, others two. He'd never gone looking for any of them. He'd never looked for Arthur or any of the others either, but one moment he'd been miserable on his own, the other he'd been miserable with _missing_ as the subtitle to every action, person-shaped holes all over his existence.

"Hey handsome," Merlin whispered into Demi's ear. He'd met him in the fifties, eighteen hundreds, had seen him leave, and watched him, had seen him grow old after. And now as Merlin sat by his bed and stroked through his hair, lower, went for his cock as he slid onto the bed himself and curled close, it was like the music was playing again.

"Something was on the news today, you'd have thought it hilarious," Merlin said just before he pressed his lips to Demi's face. He had a little something of Arthur, the nose maybe, even if Merlin tried to not compare. He tried not to fuck here and show them magic and make them fucking love him back, tried not to stand proud and tall next door, curl up one room over, be a lover, be a friend, be _insert Merlin here_ to _insert person there_. Honest. Even if they all were a bit of Arthur here, the one in the next room a bit like his father, and so on. Maybe he just had types. People had types.

Maybe he was still good at lies, too.

He pulled at Demi's cock, rubbed himself on Demi's leg, as he teased his tongue between Demi's lips. He could ignore the brittle skin and the just-there breathing, the way the magic smelled in the air when he had to reinforce the stasis of life.

He ignored the empty beds, too, when he came in his trousers, tongue deep in Demi's mouth, tasting Arthur in it all. Demi's cock hung limp in his hand, and he didn't have the heart to turn it into anything else. He had more rooms if he needed them. No reason to let any of them go ever again.

The doorbell rang upstairs. He pulled himself off the bed and closed the door to the cellar behind him, magic sizzling. It was just the mail. Right then, he had a few hours until the evening.


End file.
